However Soft Your Symphony
by Curls.On.My.Pillow
Summary: Rachel introduces Kurt to her jaded older brother Blaine in New York the summer after they graduate high school. Each is hurting and in need of the other, but how long will it take them to figure it out? Anderberry!Siblings, somewhat Badboy!Blaine
1. Chapter 1

_-* November 24, 2012 *-_

Rachel prayed the mark on her dress wouldn't become a stain as she stared down at the liquid pooling on the kitchen floor.

She instantly regretted wearing white the second the glass slipped backward in her grasp. She regretted even more that she had agreed to stay sober when she saw Finn, causing her to drop the glass in the first place.

_Fine. _She thought as she spotted her ex-boyfriend attacking some girl's mouth… with his tongue. _It's fine. He's single. I'm single. It's fine._

It wasn't fine.

The glass broke against the hardwood floor, making Rachel glad for the deafeningly loud music keeping her embarrassment at bay. The last time she'd seen Finn was their breakup. Nothing about him being in her parents' house, on her best friend's birthday, kissing some random girl was fine.

Quickly dropping a few towels over the mess and picking it up, Rachel hurried from the spot with her eyes trained on the streak of cranberry juice running down the front of her dress. She took for granted her intimate knowledge of the house's layout as she slammed her face into someone's hard back.

In the middle of her flustered apology she felt a hand land on her shoulder.

"Whoa Munch." She peeked out from beneath her hands, seeing her brother's amused smirk. "Hey there."

Rachel groaned and tried to push past him. He reached an arm out to stop her, genuine concern etched on his features.

"What's with the face?"

"Finn is here." She gestured over to the boy whose dancing was as painful as ever to witness. "It's fine. I'm fine. I, um, I – I just spilled on my dress. And I have to go so it won't stain. And I… I don't know."

She could see that he was trying to restrain himself from forcibly throwing Finn out of the house. She smiled at the attempt.

"No. Let him be."

"Munchkin."

"Really, Cooper. I'm fine." Rachel lied unconvincingly.

"I'm kicking him out."

"Don't. He's Kurt's brother." She sighed. "I think for one night I can handle it. I don't even have to see him – Oh my God, he's coming over here." And with that, she scampered up the stairs, heading toward the bathroom.

* * *

Rachel opened the bathroom door, but didn't enter.

"Did you hear that?" said one half of the couple making out in the bathtub.

"Hear what?" the other replied, out of breath.

"Blaine really," he said before pulling back the shower curtain and gasping. The door was open. Someone might have seen them. He started to step out of the tub, then jerked his foot back and closed the curtain when the door moved. He slapped a hand over Blaine's mouth, knowing his habit of speaking first, thinking later.

Rachel returned to the bathroom with a change of clothes in her hand.

Blaine heard the movement of another person in the room and the hand disappeared from his lips in recognition of his understanding.

As Rachel took off her dress and switched outfits, she was completely unaware of the boys' presence. The water rushing from the faucet blocked the sound of the boys' heavy breathing. Trying to keep still and quiet became difficult with the intimacy of being so close. Their breathing grew even heavier and the pull was magnetic.

Unable to keep his hands to himself, Blaine reached into the other boy's jeans that elicited a gasp that thankfully went unheard.

Rachel gave up on the dress, deeming it a lost cause. She turned the water off just in time for her to hear a muffled moan coming from the shower. _That was strange._ Another moan rippled through the silent bathroom.

"Is someone in there? Really? Because that's totally gross. This is someone's house. I'll have you know –"

Blaine let out an annoyed groan. "Ugh, shut up Rachel."

"Blaine?!" _Somehow that just makes it worse._

"Go away."

Rachel whispered an apology and left as quickly as she could, abandoning her stained dress and her shoes.

"Mood officially killed."

"Yeah," Blaine sighed as he stepped out of the tub.

* * *

Rachel made her way to the bottom of the stairs to rejoin the party. It didn't take long for Cooper to swoop in for a checkup. Before he could open his mouth to ask if she was feeling any better, Rachel stole the drink from his hand and downed it. She handed it back as he looked strangely impressed.

"Your brother is disgusting," she said seriously before walking away.

"He's only _my_ brother when he's done something wrong," Cooper teased.

Cooper followed Rachel into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair from the table and slumped onto the seat. He had no idea how tired his body was until it started to get comfortable.

Rachel yanked a beer from the fridge and twisted the cap off, debating whether or not to drink it and somewhat surprised by her own actions. She had promised Kurt she wouldn't drink so that he didn't have to host.

"Screw it."

Cooper smiled into his arms as he sprawled out across the table.

"What did he do?"

"What do who do?" Rachel responded after practically ingesting half of her beer. "This tastes like piss."

Cooper chuckled softly and mumbled Blaine's name.

"Oh. Him." The disgust very nearly dripped off her tongue. "Honestly, if he wants to have sex in this house, he can do it in his room. _Not_ in the shared – I repeat, shared bathroom."

With this information, Cooper suddenly found himself much more awake.

"Wait. He did what?"

"Not just did. Probably still is doing. He yelled at me to get out. So gross."

Cooper flew out of the room, presumably in search of Blaine.

_I don't know why you'd want to see that, _Rachel thought while walking through the house. She caught another glimpse of Finn and all of a sudden the room was too hot. Finn noticed her looking and came barreling toward her. Rachel cursed under her breath and made her way outside.

Knowing Finn would find her, she sat on the porch steps waiting. She focused on the couple making out against the side of the house as a distraction. Finn quickly caught up and clumsily sat down beside her.

"Hey."

"Hi Finn."

"You've been avoiding me."

Rachel thought about mentioning that he was too busy making out with someone all night to have a right to care. She thought of all the terrible things she could say to cut into him. Ultimately she decided that would only deepen the pain so instead she simply nodded, smiling slightly.

"I thought it might be easier."

"We can't go back and start over, but –"

"Of course not, Finn," she snapped at him unintentionally.

"Look, you don't have to be mean." The hurt Finn was feeling showed on his face and Rachel's hard look softened immediately. She wanted to apologize, but found herself unable to make a sound. Finn tried and failed to get Rachel to make eye contact. Finn stood in frustration. He didn't want to make things worse either.

"Hey guys," a new voice intruded on the conversation.

Rachel looked up surprised at the boy in front of her. Finn waved in his direction, and then went back inside the house.

"Have you seen Blaine?"

Rachel snorted, "He's probably hanging out in the bathroom with what's left of your dignity." It was the boy's turn to be surprised. He raised an eyebrow in the girl's direction.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing… just maybe next time lock the door."

The puzzled look on the boys faced grew even more confused when Blaine bolted out of the house followed by a screaming Cooper. Blaine made it only a few steps down the walk before he realized who he had just stormed past.

Cooper's yelling ceased.

Blaine's anger dissipated.

Rachel's heart broke.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – Sorry about the wait. I had about 40 pages worth of essays due this week. BLEH. Oh my life. Moving on.  
****  
In case you can't tell, this story is AU. Rachel is Cooper & Blaine's half-sister. (But they whole love her.) And Blaine is a tiny bit of a badboy, but more of the sex-crazed variety. I like to think he's still got his charms… he just uses them for sexual benefit…**

**Blaine and Kurt will both be in the next chapter, but for now it's all about the best-looking man in North America!******

* * *

****_-* Christmas Eve, 2012 *-_

Cooper loved it when snow fell on Christmas.

When they were young, Cooper would drag his little brother out into the wintery chill of early morning each time even the lightest flakes would sprinkle down.

On the Christmas mornings when enough snow had fallen, the boys spent hours playing outside. Cooper would practically bounce into Blaine's bedroom, fully dressed and way too loud. Blaine let Cooper's excitement pour over his own emotions and inspire him to feel the same. Each boy would rush to get downstairs and out the door. Neither bothered to ask permission.

Their mother was something less than maternal for a long while after their dad left. Especially around the holidays.

They'd build giant forts in the street and have a snowball fight. Many of the family's neighbors would join in as well, both the kids and the extra cooks kicked out of the kitchen. Alone or with the masses, it was the brothers' tradition for many years.

If there wasn't any snow, still they would find some trouble to get into – more often than not being run off by a disgruntled neighbor with proud grins at a job well done.

In any case, the boys would eventually go home to a house full of their mother's side of the family. It wasn't always that way, it just sort of happened. With their father's absence and their mother's near breakdown, extended family brought Christmas to their doorstep. And it stuck.

That first holiday season free of celebrating Hanukkah was in 1993. Blaine was just shy of his sixth birthday. Cooper was nine at the time. Their parents had tried the year before – the year of the split – to be civil toward one another, but when their mother found out about some _woman_ named _Shelby_ carrying a _child_ for her ex-husband and _his partner_, she snapped and forbade him from seeing his children.

Blaine had cried for days when his mother told him his father was gone. He would often be found in the study where his father had spent much of his time. In his mind, if he waited long enough eventually Daddy would come back; and when he did, he would easily find Blaine in their special room. The room even Cooper wasn't allowed into because he couldn't touch a single thing without being destructive. Daddy would come home and he would know Blaine had practiced at their piano every day, just like before. Blaine would show him all the tricks his little fingers had learned. But Daddy didn't come back. No matter how much he played.

Cooper watched his little brother struggle to understand his loneliness. Cooper even tried learning the piano so that he could help Blaine; he happened to be pretty good at it, but Blaine refused to let anyone else even sit on the bench with him.

At the beginning of that spiritless December, neither boy had seen him in months. Halloween was passably okay; they were excited to dress up and trick-or-treat with their friends, like always. Thanksgiving was worse, but still okay; they played with their cousins and ate too much food, just like always. It was familiar.

December sucked.

Hanukkah passed by without as much as a whisper of recognition from their mother.

By the time Christmas rolled around, Cooper was completely disinterested in staying inside all winter break. For maybe the first time ever, the boy missed school. He missed feeling stir-crazy at being trapped in a room with his borderline-fascist teachers for eight hours because, with the suffocating weight of being stuck in his house, with his mother and too many memories, being at school felt like talking his first breath of fresh air after being buried alive.

The house was devoid of warmth, and Cooper felt they all deserved more. He wanted to help somehow. His mother was distant and unwilling to help herself. Unable to reach his father, Cooper turned to Mrs. Chaplin, his babysitter and friend.

Mrs. Chaplin, Shirley, had been an older woman whose own children had all gone from home; the youngest of which had flown the coop around the time Blaine was born. Caring for the boys was like a cure for her empty nest.

Blaine had been a breeze to babysit growing up; he was quiet and content almost all of the time. Hand him a notepad or an instrument and he was busy for hours.

Cooper, on the other hand, liked attention. Honestly, he never stopped liking attention. Not once. Ever. While Blaine would entertain himself, Cooper would entertain Shirley. Sure, he was a handful, but he was also extremely amusing, deserving of an audience. More often than not, Shirley found herself smiling and laughing, happy to let him prattle on. Cooper talked to Shirley about everything, all the time. In the midst of the endless chattering, the two formed a close bond. Cooper went to her many times throughout his childhood. She was his rock when his parents' marriage broke down; he trusted Shirley would know how to help him with his problem.

Shirley promised to speak to his mother, but told Cooper to think of something special to do for Blaine to keep the five-year-old distracted on the holiday. That was how Cooper came up with the idea building a snow fort. The snowball fight happened on its own. It kept Blaine from thinking about his Daddy all day, and kept both boys outside of the house. The house that was strangely overflowing with family.

Each year, Hanukkah was celebrated at home, and Christmas took place at their grandparent's house.

That year, Aunt Emma showed up at six-thirty in the morning, claiming the rest of the family would be showing up throughout the course of the day.

Apparently, Shirley's attempted intervention with their mother had taken no effect, except to depress her further and inspire the subsequent phone call to her parents informing them she, Blaine and Cooper wouldn't be joining them for Christmas. News of that phone call then spread to the whole family, all of whom had no intentions of letting them skip out on the holiday.

By some miracle, Aunt Emma convinced their mother to let them talk to their father that night. Blaine excitedly told him all about how well he'd been playing and that he had even memorized a few of the songs because he'd practiced so much.

Cooper stopped eavesdropping after he heard Blaine ask when his Daddy when he would be home. He turned away, only to see his mother with tears glistening in her eyes. He always figured that might've been the moment she started trying to be better again.

Cooper waited his turn to speak with his father.

When he was finally handed the phone, he didn't know what to say. His father cracked a joke about never hearing Cooper so quiet, but still Cooper said nothing. Eventually he said the one thing that had been running through his mind since August: "I miss you, Dad." The words were whispered, but not unheard. The sentiment was returned and the floodgates opened.

Cooper cried for a full hour, his father staying on the line the whole time. Once the tears had stopped, Cooper came back full force and spent the rest of the night chatting away. His mother ended the call with a promise they could speak soon. A promise she kept.

Every year after that, family would start showing up in the afternoon. Cooper and Blaine would warm up with hot chocolate by the enormous fireplace after hours spent playing in the snow. Their father would sink further and further into the backs of their minds, until finally their mother forgave him. He and his new family would stay in the city for a week, driving upstate for dinner on Christmas Eve, before everyone else arrived. It was awkward at first, but they managed. Some better than others.

Blaine's relationship with his father became strained through the distance; him in New York, his father in Ohio. Through his turbulent teenage years, the relationship remained rocky until it all but ceased to exist. Cooper hated that he couldn't help anymore. He wished a snowball fight in the street could still take away the pain like it had before. That was just it, he realized; his plan hadn't fixed a single thing. He had only helped Blaine ignore the hurt, cover it, and let it fester. That was never in the plan. Cooper only wanted to help.

Cooper loved snow. For a long while, it let him believe he could bury the bad beneath a blanket of something fresh and new.

* * *

Cooper caught himself staring out his the snow-sprinkled window. The chill of standing beside the window with his bare chest and arms prompted him to move away, slipping from his memories back into the present. He slid a long-sleeved t-shirt over his head and stepped out of his childhood bedroom.

As he descended the back staircase, he could make out muffled voices. He followed their sound to the kitchen, passing through a wide hallway filled with photographs and memories. He considered stopping into the living room to check on his brother, but figured if Blaine was finally sleeping it was best to leave him to it.

He moved through the hallway and into the kitchen. There he found his mother and his little sister chatting animatedly. Initially, he had feared how his mother would react to an adult Rachel, without her fathers around to protect her from his mother's resentment. His mother proved his fear unnecessary as she had welcomed the girl with open arms.

If he was honest, that unsettled him a bit.

Hiram, Leroy, and Rachel only ever came to the house for the Christmas Eve when Blaine was still subject to his parents' wishes. Long ago, Blaine had decided to cut Hiram from his life all but completely. Hiram made the mistake of not pushing back against his son's limits.

Cooper had arched one hell of an eyebrow when Rachel begged to join them for Christmas, but was happy to bring her along without further question; though his compliance hadn't stopped him from being suspicious of her motivations.

Both women looked up at him as he shuffled through the doorway. He kissed each of them; his mother on the forehead where she stood at the stove, Rachel on the cheek where she sat on the counter.

His mother poured and handed him a cup of coffee, which prompted another kiss and vow of eternal gratitude. She waved him away and continued flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. The room was filled with food he knew better than to touch. His hand had been slapped away many a time by his less than amused mother.

He sipped the hot liquid and leaned against the counter space beside Rachel, once again drawn to the snow falling outside. He looked away from the window at his oddly quiet sister and nudged her with his shoulder. She smiled though she remained silent, sipping at her own coffee mug.

"So tell me, Munch, are you saving your voice for a great big Christmas concert spectacular or something?"

Rachel shook her head and trained her eyes on the mug in her hands.

"Hmm. I didn't think so." Cooper put his own coffee down and stepped directly in front of Rachel, arms crossed. "What secret are you failing to hide?"

Rachel's eyes grew big as she spluttered a response. "What?! I – No. Just no, Cooper. Why would you think –

"She speaks!" Cooper jumped back, feigning surprise and earning a glare.

"No. I'm just observing the holiday in silence."

"Bullshit! You don't take a piss in silence, Rachel. What you're doing is just paying too much for an education that clearly isn't sinking in."

Another glare.

"Leave the girl alone."

A mischievous grin spread across Cooper's face at his mother's words. His voice rose to his very special excited-Cooper level. "Oh you know something, don't you?"

"Maybe _we're all _conspiring against you. Better watch your back, Cooper James." Cooper turned at the sound of a new voice.

Cooper looked at the woman hanging her snow covered jacket in the hallway just outside the kitchen. "Where have you been all morning?"

He watched as Noelle rid herself of hat, gloves, and scarf. "Wouldn't you like to know...?" she teased, tossing in a smirk for good measure.

Cooper took a lingering look at his girlfriend, admiring the way the soft pink of her off-the-shoulder sweater contrasted with her caramel-colored skin. His thoughts floated off into a beautiful fantasy of tongues on collarbones and clothes on the floor before remembering where he was and who he was with.

The snort and unrestricted laughter Noelle unleashed told him it was no secret where his mind had just returned from.

His mother locked eyes with him for a moment until she could no longer contain her own laugher.

Rachel, who had been evermore scarred by the groan Cooper didn't seem to be aware he made, joined in the laughter at his expense when she saw the bewildered expression on Cooper's face. She'd never seen him have the decency to be embarrassed. Ever. Apparently, having your sister, girlfriend, and mother witness you having a rather _vivid_ daydream will do that to a man.

Cooper quickly recovered. It must have been the shock of being caught off guard that caused him to blush. It wasn't _actual shame._ Of course, it wasn't.

"Har har. Yuk it up."

"Oh, poor baby," Noelle cooed as she smoothed a hand over Cooper's cheek. Just as he leaned into the touch, she drew away her hand to treat him to a couple love taps. "You'll be alright."

"Never the face. Do you hate me because I'm beautiful? Is that it?"

Noelle responded with a still playful, yet slightly firmer slap to Cooper's face.

Cooper stroked his cheek and lamented his bruised ego.

"That hurts. All I ever do is love you, but you - mmm." Noelle shushed him with a soft kiss.

"Now, shut up. You goddamn narcissist. Dee how on earth –"

"– have I survived him this long?" Noelle nodded.

"Hey, you raised me! You don't get to complain now."

"You're twenty-eight years old, Cooper," his mother deadpanned. "You don't get to complain about me now. You keep showing up her of your own volition." She removed the cinnamon rolls and banana bread from the oven and placed them each on top of the stove.

Noelle poked Cooper repeatedly in his side and mouthed "owned." Cooper shook his head and rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway.

Rachel grabbed the plate full of pancakes and wandered off into the dining room. Noelle reached into the cupboard and handed Cooper a stack of plates. On top of the plates, she piled silverware. Then she reached back into the cupboard for glasses and followed Rachel's path, steadying the glasses atop the silverware and taking them all from Cooper on the way out.

Deirdre carried the plate of rolls into the dining room, leaving Cooper alone in the kitchen. He immediately took advantage of the many foods left behind. His mother had no doubt been baking for hours.

He was shoveling croissants into his mouth when his mother walked back in. She wasn't really surprised – after all, she had been gone an entire ten seconds. She dropped a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back from the food, taking the roll he had in his hand.

"Go get your brother, please. And go set this down. Without eating them all." She handed him the croissant-filled dish and watched him exit the kitchen.

Cooper set the plate down on the serving table, considering it a personal achievement that he only had one roll in each hand when he headed toward the door.

Noelle had been still setting the table, but stopped as Cooper hesitated in the doorway. She stared over at him, curious as to why he looked ready to start trouble.

"Oh, hey Munch?" Rachel looked up. "We're not done. I will figure this out."

Rachel shrugged, "Maybe. Maybe not. I'm certainly doubtful."

"You'll crack."

She shook her head and mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. Ever the dramatist, Cooper walked over to where Rachel fake threw the key and bent down to pick it up. He mimed, in great detail, the unlocking of Rachel's lips, causing the girl to fail at biting back a smile, doubling over in laughter before he was even finished. For the finale, he surgically implanted the key in his brain, scalpel and sutures included.

"You're move, Munch."

His mother, who had reentered the dining room around the time Cooper had finally gotten to the point of unzipping Rachel's lips, watched on in amazement, struck by her strange feeling of pride at the display.

Noelle grabbed Cooper by the shoulders, exclaiming "this is both why I love you and why I question my own sanity," while steering him back toward the doorway.

* * *

Cooper walked into the living room, chomping on his last bite of croissant, expecting to either find Blaine still asleep or watching TV. He didn't find Blaine at all.

He checked Blaine's bedroom, but messy as it was, the room clearly hadn't been touched. Cooper walked back downstairs, realizing where Blaine must have been.

The door to the study creaked when Cooper pushed it open.

There he saw Blaine sitting on the floor, resting his arms on the piano bench and his head on his arms. _That can't be comfortable_, Cooper thought to himself.

Sheet music sat in a haphazard pile on the floor, probably having been relocated from the bench when Blaine went to sleep. Cooper debated whether or not to wake Blaine. He had been hoping Blaine was already awake and glued to the TV; he never knows which Blaine will come out when he's forced awake.

At least with the prospect of food, an ill-tempered Blaine will more than likely change his tune. Actually, the prospect of food just motivates Cooper to get this over with sooner.

Cooper shook Blaine by the shoulder, whispering for him to get up, getting slightly more aggressive the longer he tried. The heavy sleeper remained fast unchanged.

Cooper sighed. _I know what I have to do._

He pulled Blaine's body from where it rested on the bench, laying him on the floor. Still he didn't wake, so Cooper carried on. Cooper moved the bench away, not wanting Blaine to hurt himself. He put himself at arm's length from his little brother. He wished Blaine would just wake up, so he didn't have to do this. Alas, he had no choice.

Briefly thinking it wasn't fair to abuse the knowledge of his brother's sensitivity, Cooper cautiously reached his fingertips across the distance, remembering this was all that there was standing between himself and breakfast.

Blaine shot up lightning fast at his brother's tickling fingers. Cooper drew back his hands just as quickly, backing away his whole body. Cooper stood, watching Blaine panting and holding a hand to his chest.

"You okay?"

"Jesus Christ, Coop!"

"Are you alright?"

"Fuck you." Blaine flopped back onto the floor, hitting it harder than he expected and groaning in agony. "Best wake up ever. Thanks ever so much." He closed his eyes, willing sleep to return to no avail.

"Asshole."

"Breakfast."

Blaine perked up at that, opening his eyes and swiveling his head toward Cooper. Cooper crossed the room and extended a hand and helped Blaine up. The two walked through the house side-by-side and silent.

Getting closer to the dining room, Blaine could smell the small feast his mother had made. The delicious scent prompted Blaine to break the silence just as they reached the doorway.

"God, I love stress bakers." Cooper chuckled, sharing the feeling.

* * *

**Holy cow! Look at all that exposition up there.**

**More to come in the Anderberry family history. More importantly, more to come with Kurt and Blaine. (_Actively trying not to make that dirty.)_**

**Oh and in case you're at all confused, Hiram is Papa Bear Anderson.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This was supposed to be finished much earlier, but I got distracted by my very excitable niece. She's nearly two and distractingly adorable.**

**I promised Kurt and Blaine, but I really wanted to post tonight, so I split this chapter up. Next one will be out tomorrow or Thursday. Soon there will be Kurt. For now, there is Blaine. **

**Merry Christmas if you celebrate it! Happy chapter if you don't!**

* * *

_-* October 28, 2012 *-_

Blaine slowly blinked into consciousness. Very slowly.

His sleeping arm began to stir as he tried to move it, only to find it stuck beneath a heavy weight. Somewhere in his subconscious, he knew his body was wrapped around another, but the thought was too trapped in his post-drunken daze to stand out.

He lifted his free hand, untangling his calloused fingers from where they were laced with soft, slender ones, and rubbed at his face in an effort to wipe the sleep from his eyes, still failing to fully process the situation.

He dropped the hand from his face and pressed it against the firm chest he was cuddled so close to. The long neck and strong shoulders supporting his head brought warmth as he instinctively snuggled his face in tighter.

The tingling in his arm quickly turned from uncomfortable to downright painful; the pain waking him fully from his prolonged slumber. He jerked his arm free from its restraints, cradling the limb to his chest. This was not how he wanted to wake up. Already he had a hangover headache, being the biggest lightweight to ever exist, and now sharp, shooting pains flared all along his forearm.

He rocked himself slightly, working his fingers along the length of his arm while the fire in his nerves slowly died out. He found himself wondering how long he'd been in that position.

Finally, it clicked. Too suddenly, he was aware of exactly what position he was in. He shut his eyes and reached a hand beside him. When his fingers came into contact with foreign flesh, he groaned in frustration.

Blaine let his bleary eyes drift down to the face of the man sharing the bed.

_Fuck._

He slapped a hand to his forehead and flopped back against the pillows. He realized his mistake when the bed shifted and an arm slipped around his waist.

A pair of gentle lips pressed themselves to Blaine's neck.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh my god. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck. Shit. _

Blaine was pulled from his profane ramblings by a puff of warm breath on his skin as the calm, sleepy voice of the other man drifted through the room.

"Morning."

Blaine forced himself to make eye contact. He managed an extremely forced half-smile and a mumbled, "hey."

He felt a hand press against his forehead, sighing as the knuckles dragged down his cheek. Remembering who the hand belonged to and what they had done the night before, he pulled away, muffling another groan into his pillow. Luckily his agony was misinterpreted.

"Hung over?"

Well, not totally misinterpreted.

Blaine rolled onto his back, giving a tiny nod. He felt the bed shifting as the weight of another body pressed down onto his own.

"I know a pretty good way to get rid of a hangover."

Blaine rolled his eyes, scoffing at the blatancy. "Yeah, and I know a pretty bad pick up line."

"Maybe I should stop talking then."

"Probably." His bitterness went unnoticed, perhaps ignored.

He knew what was coming. He wished it wouldn't. Then again, he was never one to consider declining it whenever offered.

Lips pulled him from his thoughts, his body operating on autopilot. Nothing registered except the wet tongue leaving a glistening trail across his naked body. The sinking feeling in his stomach was swallowed whole as he felt himself disappear into that expert mouth.

* * *

Blaine let his hair be pulled into a firm grip and his face be shoved into the mattress. He arched his back into the body atop his own, trying to bring himself closer to the edge.

The thrusting became more erratic with each passing moment. The hand not locked into Blaine's curls made its way around his chest, snaking down chiseled abs to make itself more useful. A pair of soft lips latched onto his neck, sure to leave their mark. Focusing on the parts, he pieced together a fantasy.

Briefly, he questioned why it was so difficult. Why was he trying at all? Sex – that's easy. He was good at sex. Amazing really. Aside from his various musical talents, sex was his most practiced skill. Even with the overwhelming nerves during his first time, he had never had trouble staying interested. Then again, he'd also next to never let feelings be part of the process.

_Feelings._ _Fuck feelings._

In his mind, the body, its hands and fingers, lips and tongue, now belonged to another. He let himself be taken over by an illusion. Reaching down, he knocked the other hand out of the way, stroking himself into oblivion.

He vaguely registered fingers digging into hips while the body stilled inside him, but collapsed into sleeping before their bodies separated.

* * *

Blaine slept off his hangover, but not his exhaustion, only stirring when his stomach could no longer go unfed. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find himself alone. Alone except for the note resting beside his head. He picked up the paper where familiar, neat handwriting scrawled out a short message.

With his head to the pillow, he lazily scanned the words on the page. Blaine crinkled the note and tossed it away carelessly, internally gagging at the words _babe _and _I'll call you_.

"Ouch. That's exactly the way to break a man's heart."

He snapped his head toward the noise. "Fuck you," he muttered.

"Loverboy told me he left a wittle note for you. Isn't that sweet?" Santana teased, crawling onto the bed beside him. "And you. You cruel thing, you. Just tossing it away."

Blaine slammed a pillow in Santana's face, cutting her off mid-taunt. He turned away from the woman, but she draped herself over his body, pinning him down uncomfortably. He was too tired to fight her off and knew even if he pushed her off she would keep coming back out of spite. She saw his defeat and relented.

Santana sat up against the headboard. Blaine mimicked her actions and laid his head on her shoulder.

"It reeks of sex in here."

Blaine laughed. "One guess as to why."

"Is it… hmm… Is it because you completely bombed last night trying to get what you actually want, so you settled for what you could get, brought him back here, had a couple rounds of mediocre sex which you regretted before it was even over, and then forced yourself to sleep to forget all about it."

He huffed, crossing his arms in response. Santana smirked, taking it as win.

"Auntie Tana is here for you Blainers. Quit refusing to take my advice; you know I'm always right."

"How's the single life treating you, Tana?"

Santana laughed, unimpressed at Blaine's weak jibe.

"Look. Get your stank ass out of this bed. Wash your sheets; be sure to bleach them. Better yet, bleach everything in here. Your bare ass, and probably all your boys' asses – among other things – have been on every surface of this place. I'd blind myself before I'd be willing to see this room under a black light."

"Fuck you."

She leapt to her feet. "Right. Start easy. Get up, shower, eat, _replenish your fluids_, and go call him."

Blaine squinted in confusion at that last part.

"Not him," she stated, pointing at the crumpled, abandoned note, as though he were a total imbecile for ever thinking it. "You know who."

"No."

Santana rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Yes."

Blaine took the hand stretched out toward him. He stood on wobbly legs as he was pulled into a rare Santana hug.

"You fucked up, tri-brows. You apologize."

"What if I can't fix it?" he whispered so quietly he wasn't sure the thought had left his head.

* * *

**I'll edit mistakes in the morning. For now, I'm watching Struck By Lightning again and feeling feels.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi. **

**I'm sorry. **

**Life bitchslapped be a few times. **

**Here's a chapter. I hope you forgive me.**

* * *

_-* June 10, 2012 *-_

Kurt was struck by an overwhelming silence. Unable to escape his mind's prison, he laid trapped in his bed for hours. Intermittent noises hummed in his ears and when they quieted the silence grew deafening.

Inside the house, he heard his own parents rushing off to work, Finn thundering down the stairs to fix himself breakfast and back upstairs to eat while playing videogames, Finn repeating the process at least twice more.

As the morning bustle died down, Kurt craved any noise that would shake him from his darkening thoughts.

Every so often, he heard cars pass by his front-facing window; some with music screeching loudly enough to blanket the neighborhood with the sound, some with those proud and few drivers who _never_ forget their horn, and some simply passing through, the quiet roar of their engine just enough to reach his ears. Occasional he heard a car door be open and close, a trunk be slammed shut with varying degrees of force.

Sporadic sounds would echo and fade, leaving the silence to hang more heavily. Silence crashed in roaring waves every time it returned from momentary interruption.

His active mind pinned him to the mattress. He wanted to find his way through the maze, but the shifting walls made it impossible. He wanted to start the day over, to not feel powerless. Rooted to the spot, his wants laid unfulfilled.

When he had awoken, he didn't bounce out of bed and perform his lengthy morning routine, starting with a shower followed by a rigorous skincare regimen as usual; instead he barely did more than open his eyes.

Kurt had trailed those eyes along the soft creases of his skin, illuminated by the morning sun peeking in through a half-drawn curtain. For longer than he processed, he fixated on the hand that lay upon his pillow. Each fingernail was brightly painted, each a different color. Remembering the tiny, attentive hands that gently applied the polish put the faint traces of a smile at the corners of Kurt's lips. Generally, he didn't like being around little kids, but that was before Krista; the little girl was wise beyond her years.

Cars whizzed by and Kurt was free from him fixation. Then the sound evaporated, leaving him alone again.

This time, a haunting fantasy of his former future materialized in the silence.

New York.

The city's name left him to sigh uneasily. The tiny silver apple chained to his neck and digging uncomfortably into his skin felt a hundred pounds heavier.

NYADA had rejected him; the only out-of-state school he had applied to. Foolishly, he had put all his eggs in one basket. Now, New York was a pipe dream. He had thought he was good enough. Apparently, he was not.

Instead of New York, he was facing a future as a freshman at OSU. He'd be living at home and working at a job he'd most certainly hate, which would only remind him every day of his deflated dreams. Not exactly how he'd mapped things out.

Kurt felt tears prick at his eyes, felt his lips quiver. A pounding in his ears answered his recurring call for noise as his heartbeat raced dangerously over the speed limit.

Heat rapidly wound its way around his face and down his whole body. Wanting to kick off his blanket, he couldn't will his body to react. Even with his hungrily growling stomach gnawing at his insides, he made no move to follow his hunger out the door and to the kitchen. He made no move but to take in his surroundings: differently colored sticky notes marking his possessions, trophies and photographs cataloging his last few years, a dying flower in a vase given to him at graduation.

Eyes shifting among souvenirs of vanished possibilities, Kurt felt the dam break. Unsolicited tears burned down his cheeks. After the unexpected blow of rejection, he couldn't find the heart to undo all the work he'd put in toward a life that changed course so drastically.

Rachel was gone and off, already chasing her big city dreams.

He was here. In Lima. Ohio.

The thought that he had failed so miserably at getting the one thing he so badly needed to rid himself of this cow town drilled itself into his skull. His heartbeat pounded hard and fast all over and Kurt was fuzzily aware of being caught in the middle of a panic attack.

"In, out. In, out. In, out…" he told himself, sniffling in the half-darkness. Whisperings trailed off as he wiped at the stream of tears.

A shift occurred; his body calmed its shaking nerves as the tears subsided. Relief blanketed him where he laid; his body felt his own again as the pent-up frustration melted into the tears on his pillow.

A muffler clearly in need of repair shook him from his inactivity as a car flew down the street. He dragged a hand through his hair, again wishing he'd had the energy to toss back his blanket earlier when he wasn't all sweaty.

Pinching the fabric between his fingers, he tugged it away from his overheated body, grimacing as he did so. He sat up quickly, too quickly, and found he was lightheaded. The coolness of the surrounding air sent shivers up his spine. A feeling of lightheadedness kept him from moving too quickly. Breathing deep, he swung his legs over the side of his bed, finally ready to face this unsettling day.

Just as his feet touched the floor, his bedroom door burst open. His hand reached for his dresser as he stumbled on his underused muscles, but miscalculated, promptly landing on the rug with a thud that only seemed to mock him. He looked up to see his brother standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Finn reached down to help Kurt up, muttering a quiet "sorry, bro." Kurt offered a tight-lipped smile, not quite prepared for Finn this soon into his day, but he accepted the help.

"What's up?" Finn asked, getting nothing more than a shrug out of Kurt.

Finn looked around, scrunching his face in confusion and taking his sweet time to scour the room for evidence of what was wrong.

Kurt was growing agitated minute by minute. His much too hot clothing was catching a drift, uncomfortably cooling his sweaty body. Crossing his arms, Kurt tapped his foot while Finn kept biting down whatever words were sure to send him over the edge.

Finn shuffled on his feet, glancing at the messy state of Kurt's bed. Kurt shifted on his feet under Finn's quietly judgmental gaze. Kurt was kind of OCD about cleaning; so maybe the room needed to be picked up a little, maybe the sticky notes should have come down a week ago, and the laundry pile on the floor should be in the basket, and maybe his desk could look less like a tornado hit it, but he didn't see what the big deal was.

Finn couldn't stop staring; he knew something was wrong. He had never seen Kurt look so… frumpy. Honestly, he looked like shit. Like shit run over twice. Maybe three times. And then trampled by a parade of dancing roadkill.

"Oh my god, Finn, what?" Kurt's voice cracked a little, from lack of use, but he just couldn't tolerate the staring any longer.

Finn squinted his eyes in concern, "are you sick or something?"

Eyes narrowed for an entirely different reason, Kurt mouthed "no."

Finn had his moments (a lot of them), but he wasn't stupid; Kurt was hurting and he needed help, even if he would never ask. He happily clapped a hand on Kurt's shoulder, which prompted Kurt to glare until he removed it. He pushed past his fears of a bitch-faced Kurt Hummel and locked eyes with the boy; he was going to be Kurt's hero today.

"Let's go out."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in response. He wasn't interested in going anywhere. He really only wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep forever. Until he remembered he'd been lying in sweat-soaked sheets for hours on end. Shuddering at the thought, he reminded himself of his need to shower.

Finn cleared his throat. "So… Lunch?"

Kurt shrugged and Finn sighed, not knowing what was so complicated about the question. "We can go to that Chinese place you love so much."

"Thai," Kurt murmured.

Finn looked down, pressing a hand to his chest, confused about why he would need to wear a tie to the restaurant.

"It's Thai food, Finn."

"Oh." Kurt rolled his eyes as Finn continued, "Let's go get Thai food then."

Kurt bit his lip, considering turning Finn's offer down. He was tempted to go considering they Finn was leaving soon and they already wasted the week since graduation not spending time together. Still, he couldn't shake the icky feeling he's woken up to.

"We have food in the house."

Finn just shrugged.

"It's almost two hours away."

"Come on, dude." Kurt gave Finn a look, and Finn smirked knowing how much Kurt hated to be called dude. "I mean, I know it's your special place to go with that douche boyfriend of yours," Kurt sighed, not even bothering to comment, "But I think we could have fun too. Make it a mini road trip. C'mon, really. We'll have, like, no time together this summer. Let's not waste what we do have."

Finn was resolved to get a "yes" out of his brother. He flopped down onto the unmade bed, crossing his arms like a petulant child, waiting impatiently for the response he knew was coming.

"You want to go all the way to Westerville?"

Finn nodded eagerly. _It's not about me, bro. You better thank me for this._

Kurt gazed down at the boy, amused at his stubbornness. He looked way too excited for Kurt to deny him, though the self-satisfied smirk he wore did make Kurt want to tease him a little bit first. He decided against it, still easing back into a sense of normal in an already draining day. He whispered a quiet, "Okay."

Finn's goofy smile overtook his face as he quickly rose to his feet.

"Let me shower first, then we can go," Kurt said, pushing the giant out of his room.

Before showering, he stripped the bed because there was simply no way he was sleeping on those sheets again unlaundered. He pulled fresh ones from his closet, setting them down before picking up his towel and heading toward the bathroom.

He hung his towel on the back of the door and moved over to the tub, turning the faucet on. Twisting his thin necklace until it came untangled, he unclasped the chain and laid it carefully down beside the sink before looking up. In the mirror, he saw his disheveled reflection and cringed. He swiftly peeled his sweat-soaked clothes away from his skin and stepped beneath the stream of hot water.

The shower was refreshing, but lying in bed all day left him strangely exhausted. He moved slowly and lazily as he got dressed and styled his hair, skipping over most of his moisturizing in order to appease Finn's hungry stomach as well as his own.

Finn had been banging on Kurt's door every other minute for the past fifteen, asking if he was ready yet. Kurt tugged on his shoes and grabbed his phone, slipping it into his pocket. He opened the door, narrowly dodging Finn's next knock.

"All set to go."

Finn rubbed at his belly. "Finally."

Kurt wasn't stupid; he knew Finn had been snacking the entire time he was in the shower. If anyone had a right to complain about being hungry, that person definitely wasn't Finn.

Kurt picked up his keys from the hook beside the front door, knowing they would have to go in his car since Finn's truck was sitting in the shop waiting for a part to come in.

As they walked out the door, Kurt blinked against the harsh sunlight of midday. He stopped walking and cursed at the pain the light caused behind his eyes. Finn turned to look back, noticing Kurt was still no longer trailing behind him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Fine. Quit asking." He started moving toward the vehicle, wincing harder at the sunlight. _Not so fine._

"Here," Kurt said tossing his keys at Finn, stepping into the car where his brother had already opened the passenger side door. They hopped into Kurt's Navigator, with Finn behind the wheel, and headed out.

Kurt pulled the pair of sunglasses from where they rested on his dash and put them on, sighing at the immediate relief on his headache. He slouched down in his seat and reached out to turn on the radio. Finn reached out to change the station before Kurt had even drawn his hand back. Kurt scowled and changed it back.

Finn barked out a laugh like a battle cry and continued the familiar game.

Kurt felt the sense of normal creeping back in as he repeatedly batted Finn's hand away. Neither really cared what station was playing, they just liked the brotherly bonding of sibling rivalry. Every time Kurt laughed and shooed him, Finn just smirked and went back in for more.

Kurt gave in, settling back into the seat with his head resting against the cool window. He looked at his brother from where he was slumped, watching him sing and hum along to some classic rock song, smiling at his playful intensity.

The realization that they'd be separated soon hit Kurt like a ton of bricks.

He loved being Finn's brother. Once the awkwardness of Kurt's long ago crush on his the football player wore off, the two became thick as thieves. It was a big adjustment getting used to each other, but parting now would be so much worse.

It felt like the world was crashing down around him all over again. Apparently, this funk intended to overstay its welcome. He'd tried to rinse it down the drain with a scalding shower, but here it was looking to trap him once again.

"I'm sad you're leaving," his voice broke through his mind's ramblings, surprising both Finn and himself.

Finn smiled, enormous and sincere. "Thanks bro."

Neither spoke the rest of the way, but the quiet was companionable, nothing like the crushing silence he awoke to.

* * *

_-* October 28, 2012 *-_

Santana followed the sound of man-on-man sex until her feet brought her to Blaine's bedroom door. She shamelessly pressed her ear to the door, debating whether or not to just walk in, sit back, and enjoy the show. Wouldn't be the first time.

Her stomach growled and she decided to feed that appetite first.

Fuzzy blue slippers padded across the short distance from Blaine's door to the kitchen. She set about making coffee and toasting pop tarts, relaxing to the sweet sounds of lovemaking in the background. She dropped the hot pastries onto a plate when they were done, licking her fingers where the heat had burned her. When her coffee was poured, the sugar added, and the liquid stirred, Santana made her way to the couch, mug in one hand, plate in the other.

She curled her feet beneath her and set down the pop tarts on the cluttered coffee table. She sipped slowly on her morning brew, smirking in the direction of Blaine's room and the absolutely _delicious_ sounds emanating from within.

Keys jingled at the front door and Santana turned to see Lexi walk in. The girl looked like a deer in headlights when she caught eyes with her roommate. Her dirty blonde curls were pulled back neatly into a loose bun, but Santana knew post-sex frizz when she saw it. She was wearing sunglasses as if that would mask the scent of shame.

"Quick question: Do you think it's less of a walk of shame if you wait until noon to come home? It's not, fyi," Santana drawled, turning back around. "Hope he bought you breakfast."

"Shut up, T."

"Shh." Santana's eyes were trained on Blaine's door as she held up a finger to quiet Lexi. The loud moans and grunting fed into her visual fantasy of what was taking place; her mind was as dirty as Blaine's sheets and she wanted no delays in her train of thought.

Lexi ignored Santana and tossed her purse onto a chair on her way to the kitchen. She was used to her roommates' strange obsession with sex. Especially their investment in each other's sex lives.

Lexi liked sex; just not so much she wanted to share it with the whole apartment. There was a reason walks of shame were becoming her specialty; she'd rather get some light teasing than a crasher at the party in her pants.

She returned to Santana, joining her on the couch with her own cup of coffee. She pulled her iPad from her purse and sat back quietly, careful not to disturb Santana's lurking.

Whatever was going on in Blaine's room was soon to be over. They could hear the men pushing themselves closer to the edge. Lexi didn't understand the appeal, yet she found herself watching the door just as intently as Santana when the bed stopped creaking. They waited, hoping someone would come out looking and smelling undeniably like sex. Alas, the door remained closed and their entertainment was gone.

Lexi went back to Words with Friends chuckling at Santana's obvious disappointment.

Santana nibbled on her pop tarts and flipped on the television. They stayed in their comfortable bubble of quiet until Lexi got up to hop in the shower. After a while, Santana got up to drag the keyboard from against the wall and over to the couch. She picked up a notebook and a pair of headphones from the clutter on the coffee table and went to work songwriting.

A half-hour later, Blaine's door opened and a half-naked man stepped out.

"Wow." Santana was not expecting him of all people. She pulled off her headphones and didn't even bother trying to hide her shock. The man deadpanned and brushed past her to welcome himself to the food in their fridge.

"Is someone else in there?" she asked, pointing toward the bedroom.

"Blaine, duh," he said pulling a face that clearly said _you're an idiot._

"Don't be a bitch." She glared at the man who was making himself comfortable in her home. "That's what I'm here for."

He rolled his eyes and carried on eating the yogurt he knew belonged to her.

"I just figured since Blaine sounded like he was enjoying himself earlier, someone else must have been in the room to get him hard while you fumbled around pretending you know what to do with that much dick."

He continued to ignore her and went back into the bedroom.

Santana was pissed. What the hell was Blaine thinking? _This had better be a _one-time_ monumental mistake. _

Lexi came out of her room sometime later, grabbing her coat and saying goodbye to Santana. She had to snap her fingers a few times to get the woman's attention away from burning holes into the floor. When Santana finally looked up, she seemed murderous. Lexi smartly thought it best to leave and headed out the door.

Santana found it difficult to refocus on her music and instead thought through ideas to help Blaine. He must really be hurting if he put himself through a night with that douche. She sat and she planned, and she waited for the fool to leave so she could talk to Blaine alone.

When he reemerged fully dressed, she determinedly bit her tongue hoping he would leave faster if he was uninterrupted.

"I left Blaine a note. I know you'll stick your nose where it doesn't belong and read it, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't crumple it up and toss it out before he sees it."

"I'm sure if he gets to it first, he'll wish I'd thrown it out anyway."

"Go to hell, Satan." With these final words he stormed out.

Santana exhaled slowly and retracted her claws; she gave it a few minutes then disappeared into Blaine's room.

* * *

_-* June 10, 2012 *- _

The restaurant was small and very few people were there. Kurt skimmed the menu just to have something to do while Finn decided on his order.

The waiter came and went, taking their orders with him. Silence fell between them again. Kurt watched from the corner of his eye as Finn obsessively checked his phone, fidgeting in his seat until it buzzed on the table. Finn read the message he'd been sent and slipped the cell into his pocket.

Kurt didn't question it; he was too worn out to care. He played with his water glass, watching his painted fingernail circle the rim.

"Oh good, you're here," Kurt heard Finn's voice without registering the words as he glanced up to find the boy looking past him. He started to follow Finn's gaze and before he could turn all the way around, he felt a warm hand on his neck and a pair of lips meet his own.

_Sebastian._

* * *

_-* October 28, 2012 *-_

Santana assumed Blaine had made a breakthrough after their little chat, but he spent the night being all sorts of pissy before heading out, presumably to get dunk and get laid.

Santana took his absence as permission to ransack his room. Wes came home from work and passed by Santana's insanity, once again thankful for the lock on his door. Of course, she didn't care at all who saw her.

She picked through Blaine's things unrushed, unconcerned about when he'd return home. Moving her attention to the trash bin, she found shredded sheet music near the top of the pile. She picked the pages up, only to drop them immediately. She ran off and quickly returned with a pair of latex gloves to remove another type of latex product from the back of one sheet.

Usually she remembered the gloves. She must be off her game.

She was grateful Blaine was a neat tearer; the pages taped back together easily. Without a second thought, she made herself at home on Blaine's bed, picking up his guitar and playing his once-destroyed song. Before she started strumming, she'd figured it was about a certain sexy doughface twink; she was surprised to learn how wrong she was. For maybe the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt about intruding.

After replacing the guitar on its stand, she crept from the room with the pages in her hand.

* * *

_-* June 10, 2012 *-_

Kurt twisted away from Sebastian's lips, only to have the boy target his neck. He placed a palm to the boy's face and pushed him away with little care of being delicate.

"Not today," he glared at a very smirky Sebastian Smythe, but his eyes possessed a hint of playfulness. He didn't even question Sebastian's presence; he was so used to being here with him it seemed only right he should show up. "Please don't use me as a pawn in your war against Finn."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I just want a little action from my _boyfriend._" Kurt's hand flew to Sebastian's chest to keep him in place. When Sebastian's hand crept up to cover Kurt's, Kurt shook his head and drew back his hand.

"Get yourself a boyfriend and I'm sure he'd let you keep those lips, and whatever else, as busy as you want them to be."

Finn coughed loud and clear, his discomfort obvious even after years of exposure to his brother's friendship with Sebastian. Kurt turned his attention away from Sebastian to his brother sitting across the table.

"Don't act so bothered. It's your fault he does crap like this." Looking back at Sebastian, he added, "Stop doing crap like this."

"You love it," Sebastian smirked.

"Mmm, yeah. I love when you get so close to me." Sebastian leaned towards him. "What's not to love about the scent of Craigslist," he deadpanned.

Sebastian smirked harder. "I love it when you talk dirty. Keep it coming."

Finn scrunched up his face, pretty sure that this lunch would go downhill fast for him if this conversation didn't stop here. Ever since Kurt met Sebastian on the day he'd gone to spy on the Warblers, they'd been inseparable. In some ways, Finn was really grateful for their closeness because Sebastian inspired confidence in Kurt, but then other times he felt he was the butt of many a joke between the two. Like the dating thing; it's a frequently revisited topic when the three are together, something Finn won't let go. Kurt and Sebastian supposedly they tried being a couple for a few weeks a long time ago, and claim it didn't work out, still it always seems like they get extra close and comfy around Finn just to mess with his head.

"I'm pretty sure you two are dating."

Both Kurt and Sebastian cut off from their conversation about whether Kurt's jeans would look better on his body or on Sebastian's floor. Thankfully, Finn interrupted because Kurt had no desire to be having this conversation. They were in a public restaurant; one they went to all the time. No one needed to hear about a fictional sex life Sebastian concocted to poke fun at the ever-suspicious Finn. A lesson in decorum wouldn't hurt Sebastian at all.

Sebastian got up to use the bathroom, leaving Finn and Kurt in a staring contest. After a minute, their food was brought out, but the contest continued until Kurt rolled his eyes and spoke.

"This is ridiculous."

"So are you?"

"So help me God if you are referring to us dating…"

"Duh."

"We are _not_ dating Finn."

"No," Sebastian agreed, returning to his seat. Kurt turned an inquisitive eye on his friend who had always sought to fuel the rumors about their relationship, who never once had admitted to Finn it was a joke. "It's strictly sexual."

"Ahh, there it is," Kurt sighed.

"Whatever. I'm ignoring you both now."

"You're the one who keeps bringing it up," Kurt said as he felt his hand lifted from where it was back to playing with his water glass.

"Enough, Sebastian. Do not try to hold my hand."

Sebastian smirked, otherwise ignoring the comment. "You don't have to let her do this you know. She's six; if you tell her to fuck off she'll just go play with her toys."

Kurt took back his hand, smiling at his multicolored fingernails as Sebastian's picked off of his plate.

"I'm not telling your little sister to _fuck off_ as you so eloquently stated it. You're just jealous that she likes me best. Ha!" He stuck his tongue out for good measure.

"Maybe I should go then. Spend some time just the two of us; earn Krista's love without you around." Sebastian pushed his chair back, Kurt ignoring his bluff. "Yeah I'll do that," he said starting to stand.

"No!" Finn practically yelled.

Now it was Finn's turn to be gawked at. Kurt narrowed his eyes, looking at Finn like he'd gone mad.

"What changed in the last five seconds? When did you suddenly start liking Sebastian?"

"I don't."

"Thanks." Kurt snorted at Sebastian's affronted face.

"That's not what I meant. It's just…"

"What?"

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit it's nothing," Sebastian interrupted. "He thinks I make you happy which is why I'm here; he doesn't want me to go because if I do you might," he paused to look through his text messages, "'start crying and like what am I supposed to do about that dude? You are' – it's the letters u and r – 'his boyfriend' – bf it says – 'you should deal _wit _it.' He then goes on to imply I'm the one who hurt you. So this might be an intervention or couples therapy. I'm not sure."

"Oh my god Finn," Kurt groaned. "And you," he said, turning towards Sebastian, "you went along with this?"

"I think it's sweet of him to care."

"It worked," Finn said simply. "He made you smile. You look like you again."

Kurt sucked in a breath and just shrugged at Finn. He refused to look in Sebastian's direction because he could just about feel the smug grin on his face. It _was_ sweet of Finn to care, but now that Sebastian was brought into it, Kurt knew that the topic wouldn't be dropped until it was all out in the open. Sebastian was nothing if not tenacious.

* * *

_-* October 30, 2012 *-_

"Cooper, he's really hurting." Santana paced her bedroom floor, holding her phone to her ear and _trying_ to be patient, but this conversation was starting to wear her down.

"Tell me one-with-all-the-answers, what am I supposed to do about that?"

Santana growled and she could almost feel Cooper cowering on the other end of the line. "Be his brother… Oh, quit sighing. Christ! Your entire family is so dramatic. Just show up. Be pissed if you're pissed, but you still need to speak to each other."

"I'll come by later… if I have time."

"Nuh-uh. Make time." She huffed and hung up before giving Cooper a chance to feed her bullshit. Muttering a string of profanities in Spanish, she set her phone down on her nightstand.

Movement in the doorway caught her eye and she realized she wasn't alone. She looked up to see Blaine shaking his head and disappearing to the hallway.

"Shit."

Santana squared her shoulders and walked out to face Blaine.

Blaine stood in the center of the room, hands on hips, head dropped, when she saw him. With the ceasing of her footsteps, silence fell between them. Santana struggled for the right words, but they all caught in her throat.

She watched him breathing deep to steady himself; he was definitely pissed. _Fuck this. I don't do awkward._

"I'm sorry, Blaine. I didn't mean–"

"No, it's fine," he said, finally turning to look her in the eye. "It's not like I'm an adult. I need other people to overstep and solve my problems for me."

"Oh, please. Don't be such a drama queen."

"Like the rest of my family?" Blaine was getting worked up and Santana was starting to feel it just as strongly. Each word was laced with venom. "I asked you to stay the hell out of it, so please do."

Santana glared hellfire at Blaine. "Stay out of it?! You keep bringing me into it, crying on my shoulder. And that's okay because I'm your friend, but you need to deal with your crap. I've been watching you mope around here like it wasn't your own doing."

Blaine's eyes were alight with the same hellish fire as he screamed at her to back off. Santana wondered how an (albeit halfhearted) apology turned into a shouting match with both slinging personal insults at the other, but she had no intentions of backing off. They yelled so loud their voices were scratchy within minutes. Santana had enough; this was not supposed to happen.

Calming down, Santana took a breath before speaking. "I am trying to help, you ass."

"You're just my roommate, Santana. You're not my fucking therapist. Instead of sticking your nose in my so-called problems, why not deal with your own? I'm fine with where I'm at. You're the one who's lonely and miserable and you're fixating on my life to avoid your own shitty day to day existence."

"My shitty life?"

"Yeah. You're shitty pent-up frustration because you can't get a record deal and you can't even get laid."

"Just admit it Blaine. Daddy didn't love you enough and now that you know just how much he didn't care, you're taking it out on the rest of the world."

Regret smacked Santana in the face the second the words were out. She scoured her mind for the right thing to say, but Blaine's hurt, shocked expression told her he wasn't ready to hear anything more from her, certainly not an apology.

Silence fell again, thicker and heavier than ever.

* * *

**In case you're worried, know that I shall never abandon. **

**Idk when the next chapter will be up, though it is plotted and I definitely have no plans to make anybody wait another 3 months. **


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